


We Had the World

by RoryandMikey



Category: Panic! at the Disco, Ryden - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:25:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23250118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoryandMikey/pseuds/RoryandMikey
Summary: What happens when Sarah gets fed up with her husband constantly mourning the loss of his best friend? Or his former lover?aka the one where Sarah tries to play a matchmaker for Brendon and Ryan
Relationships: Ryan Ross & Brendon Urie, Sarah Orzechowski/Brendon Urie
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	1. Broken Bone

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER!  
> I'm in no way trying to imply that Sarah's and Brendon's relationship is bad or doesn't work. This is all just a fanfiction so please chill and don't take anything as a fact, thank you.  
> Also also actually actually, I'm not a native speaker so if there are any grammatical errors I apologize and please let me know in comments or something.

Burn up with the water  
The floods around the plains  
The planets in a rose  
Who knows what they contain?  
And my brain is like an orchestra  
Playing on, insane  
Will you love me like you loved me in the January rain?  
*** 

She knew it would happen from the moment she looked over at the alarm clock sitting on her bedside table and saw the red numbers turn to twelve, start a brand new day that would be anything but bright and happy. As she was lying awake in the darkness of her master bedroom, her thoughts were running wild, trying to figure out ways to make the upcoming day better or at least bearable for the man she loved. 

The man who was snoring softly with his head pressed against a white pillow, mouth ajar and hair a tangled mess. His features, illuminated only by the red glow of the alarm clock, were almost unearthly attractive- full lips, high cheekbones and long eyelashes she envied so much were undeniably handsome. The beauty was magnified when he was asleep, peaceful and unknowing, his naked chest rising and falling with each breath.

She would be able to conjure his face in her memory with her eyes closed, she had the way of how it changes while he goes through his wide range of emotions memorized better than the back of her hand. Knowing that that same face she adored so much will be twisted and painted with nothing but sorrow broke her heart to pieces. And there was nothing she could possibly do to help him, which made it thousand times worse. He went through this every year, like a twisted kind of ritual where he will be sad and crying, but the next day will be back to his usual cheerful self like nothing ever happened. She was always there for him, standing by his side, not questioning nor blaming him. Heart wants what the heart wants and there was hardly anything that could be done about it. What her husband's heart wanted was, however, unreachable. It would have been easier if he had asked for a star. She would have given it to him in a matter of minutes.

Unfortunately, life was never that easy, not when you were Brendon Urie's wife. 

He wasn't a difficult person to love, not at all. Brendon was a sweetheart, a person who would give you anything if he saw it in your eyes. That is, if he liked you. If he didn't, well, he would let you know in no time and wouldn't care a single bit. And Sarah loved him for everything he was.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her husband stirring uncomfortably and she prayed to any god willing to listen he won't wake up and see the time. See that it was already that day. Her prayer was heard since Brendon only wrapped an arm around her and started breathing peacefully again. Sarah sighed in relief and looked at the ceiling, her thoughts slowly coming to a stop as she was taken by sleep, dreading the day which was to come. 

***  
It seems like she has only been asleep for a minute before Sarah wakes up again, startled. She hears a shattering sound from downstairs followed by a string of curses. She sits up with her heart hammering against her chest, instinctively reaching across the bedsheets to wake up her husband, only to find his side of the bed empty and cold. A quick glance at the clock tells her she's been asleep for three hours which clearly means Brendon took an early morning walk into the kitchen. 

On any other day, she would shrug it off and go back to sleep. Not today though. 

She casts the sheets aside as she lets her bare feet touch the carpeted floor in their bedroom, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. With one arm slipping into her bathrobe, she's already halfway down the stairs. 

It's the early morning of Ryan Ross' birthday and Sarah Urie knows Brendon didn't take a casual stroll for three am snacks. As her feet touch cold tiles in her modern kitchen, she sees a silhouette of her husband, sitting on a barstool, holding a glass to his forehead. 

A cold hand of fear grips her heart and squeezes mercilessly at the sight. 

She makes her way towards him, careful not to step on broken glass that is somewhere on the dark floor. She sees how Brendon's shoulders shake with sobs. The urge to turn around and run away is strong, almost irresistible like it always is when it comes to Ryan Ross.

It doesn't happen often, only really bold or stupid people- fans and interviewers- are brave enough to ask about him. Brendon usually makes a smooth recovery, changing the subject immediately like a pro. He himself mentions him sometimes, dropping his name into a conversation casually, or whispering it softly in his sleep from time to time. Sarah always feels like running away somewhere where his name doesn't exist. 

She's never met him and she's not sure she would want to, not when even the mentioning of his name fills her stomach with dread. 

She's used to occasional moments when Brendon lets himself grieve, usually when he's drunk, high or overworked. When he lets her see glimpses of that "used to be" or "what ifs" fill his eyes. She can see the pain, raw and fresh even after a decade that was put between the two of them. Sometimes there were tears. Sometimes there was regret. And sometimes there was just pure, red anger seeping from every inch of his body. 

Brendon is hurt. Has been hurt for way too long, trying to put on his "everything is alright act" and it's starting to eat him up alive. 

Especially today. 

Sarah knows it's not really about Ryan's birthday. There is more to that story, always has been, things Sarah never got to find out. 

Asking Brendon about it was never a good idea. He would shut down and refuse to talk or laugh and change the subject. 

Ryan Ross is taboo. Unless Brendon is drunk. Or high. Or unless it's today. 

Brendon brings the glass he was previously holding against his forehead to his lips and takes a sip of what is undoubtedly whiskey. 

''Sorry about the mess," he says, his voice a broken whisper as he points to his right where pieces of wine bottle are lying by the counter. 

"That's okay, I will clean it up later," says Sarah comfortingly. 

Brendon manages to nod once before hot tears start to race down his face and a violent sob shakes his body. Sarah, not hesitating for a single second wraps her arms around his shaking shoulders, stroking his hair soothingly as he rests his head against her chest. Within seconds her bathrobe is soaked with tears and Brendon's breathing becomes so shallow she gets scared he won't be able to take another breath. 

"Easy baby," she says as if she was calming down a real baby. "Take it easy. Breathe."

"He's gone, Sarah," Brendon sobs. "He hates me now."

Sarah's almost absolutely sure that's not true, but she stays silent. When it comes to Ryan Ross, Brendon won't listen to anyone but himself. She tried to talk him into calling him two years ago but it was no use. In fact, she tried to convince him to pick up his goddamn phone and give that man a call multiple times but of course, he didn't. Be it fear or regret, something is holding Brendon back and not even the forces of Hell could convince him to do something when he gets this stubborn. 

May that's the biggest issue with the two. 

"What if he doesn't?" she asks once again because what else is there to do other than try again and again. There is not much else she can do and she hates to see him siffer like this. 

"He does," says Brendon stubbornly and Sarah suppresses a frustrated sigh. The last thing he needs is her anger. "The worst thing is that I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." 

"I know you are, which is why you should tell him," she says patiently, running her fingers through his hair. 

Brendon shakes his head again. "Sarah, no-."

"No, you listen to me," she grabs his chin and forces him to look at her, gently but firmly. "I can see what this does to you every day. You are hurting and you shouldn't be. One phone call, Brendon. One phone call could change it all but you're too stubborn to see that."

"I-," his voice cracks. He takes a deep breath and tries again. "I'm scared." 

He sounds so small in that moment Sarah can barely handle it. She hugs him again, holding him tightly and running her fingers up and down his back. There's this unspoken thing between them at that moment, something they both know but never talk about. 

She looks at him at the same time he looks at her and sobs again. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

"I know baby. It's okay," she kisses the top of his head and just knows. 

Sarah knows what this is about. Knows why he married her in the first place and why he's bringing it up, even though they never talk about it. 

It was after Ryan left the band, after he left Brendon's life never to come back again. At first, Sarah tried. She really tried to make it easy for him to love her completely. She did everything right and Brendon was in love with her. He wouldn't have married her otherwise. And yet there was a small part of him, like a hidden door behind which an entire new Brendon existed. A version of him Sarah never got to see because that door was locked and Ryan Ross was the key. 

Sarah knows Brendon will never be able to love her as much as she loves him. She was a safe choice back in the day and made her peace with that a long time ago. When it comes down to choosing between her happiness and his, the choice is easy. It's always Brendon to her just like it's always Ryan Ross to Brendon. 

Her husband is about to say something, but she shushes him. "Don't, sweetie. I'm fine. It's fine. We're fine." 

Brendon's eyes fill with tears again. And it's not fair, seeing how torn up he is inside- feeling bad for Sarah on one hand but longing for someone else on the other. 

"I just miss him," he says, his voice barely a whisper, his head lowered between his shoulders in shame. 

Sarah remains silent. It isn't every night that she gets a chance to listen to him talk about Ryan. 

"And it hurts. You would think that after all these years it would at least hurt less. But the more time I put between myself and Cape Town, the more it hurts and I'm unable to do anything about it. Because what if he really hates me? I wouldn't be able to handle him hating me," he sobs and sobs, unable to calm down. 

And Sarah just holds, not saying anything. 

But there is something taking shape and form in her head, a very dangerous and downright terrifying. 

Yet there is nothing she wouldn't do for him, so at that moment, she becomes determined to do it.


	2. Melt Your Headaches

Her hand is shaking visibly as she reaches over a small circular table to grab som sugar to put in her black coffee. Third one today and it's only nine in the morning. 

She looks around a small café she's sitting in, slowly taking in the walls filled with bookshelves, white wooden floor, and French music coming from the speakers above her head. It's a small place tucked on the corner of a busy street, a place almost no one knows about which makes it perfect for the thing she's come here to do. 

Her palms are sweaty, her heart is beating rapidly and she can barely sit still, drumming her fingers on the table, constantly looking around, making sure the other three people scattered around the café didn't recognize her. The last thing she needs is a Tumblr post about what's going to take place. 

He's late.

She didn't expect him to be on time but she also didn't expect him to be half an hour late. He said he would come so where the hell is he?

The bell above the door rings, catching her off guard as she is taking a sip of her drink, contemplating whether to leave or not. One quick glance towards the door reveals that leaving is no longer an option. She set things in motion with her phonecall last week and now things are, in fact, moving and it's too late to make a run for it. Too late to hide. The only option left is forward.

Her eyes meet with a pair of brown ones looking right back at her, reflecting her own fear. 

He's wearing glasses, so similar to the ones Brendon wears that Sarah wonders if he did it on purpose. His plain white T-shirt desperately needs ironing, and so does his black jacket. He stands there, looking at her like he wants to turn on his heel and run away. 

I feel you, Sarah thinks as she stands up, hesitant, afraid her knees would give out from underneath her because they are shaking so badly. He comes closer at that like he was waiting for her to make the first move, to acknowledge his existence. 

"I believe we haven't met yet," she says when he stops in front of her, reaching an uncertain hand towards him. 

Towards Ryan freaking Ross. 

"I'm Sarah," she has to bite her tongue pretty hard to stop herself from adding her last name. That would have put a stop to their merry meeting, no doubt about that. 

He looks at her hand calculatedly, resembling a deer caught in the headlights of a moving car. As if Sarah was that moving car. 

"I'm-," he tries, but his voice breaks. He looks around uncomfortably, a tiny flame of anger in his eyes from being unable to speak properly before he clears his throat and tries again, this time with more confidence. "I'm Ryan." 

He takes her hand and she's relieved that his palm is almost as sweaty as her own. 

"I know," she says, looking at the table awkwardly. "Please, take a seat." 

Ryan runs a shaky hand through his hair and looks around again as if he couldn't actually believe what he was doing. Then he shrugs. probably deciding to keep things as civil as possible and sits down hesitantly. A silent war is undoubtedly going on inside his head and she can't imagine being in his position, not knowing why a wife of your ex-something called you and wanted to meet up. 

He begins to study the table intently as if it were to disappear if he looked away. And maybe it would because if Ryan Ross agreed to meet up with her, everything was possible. After a few moments of silence, he clears his throat again like it could clear the tense atmosphere around them as well and finally looks up at her.

"Why am I here?" he asks with a single sigh, pulling the sleeves of his jacket over his palms, trying to disappear. 

Sarah takes a deep breath and with her heart hammering in her chest, says: "Because we both love the same man." 

His face turns to an alarming shade of white, almost matching the color of his T-shirt. Silence falls on them once again, so tense it feels suffocating. Sarah is tempted to say something, elaborate instead of remaining quiet like in a drama movie with intense music playing in the background, but since she doesn't want to kill Ryan Ross by giving him a heart attack, she waits for him to process her words. 

Few frantic heartbeats later, Ryan tenses up, clenches his fists, tightens his jaw as he studies Sarah with a cold stare that makes her stomach twist. He's unreadable, eyes like a wall, not letting any emotion slip through. He leaves Sarah on the other side of that wall, leaves her wondering what he is thinking and feeling. 

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he says, voice colder than Antarctica winter, but Sarah has to resist the urge to roll her eyes. 

She's been getting the same child-like attitude for years now and she isn't about to buy it.

All her nervousness is gone when it dawns on her, how much similar he and her husband are. It doesn't matter that Ryan shut her out because she knows how to deal with this. She can handle this. 

"Of course you don't," she scoffs, eyeing him down and crossing her arms over her chest. 

"Well if that's what you wanted to talk about...-," Ryan shrugs like it's nothing and goes to stand up, his chair screeching against the floor. 

"So you're not curious at all? Why did I want to talk to you? Why the wife of a man you love would want to meet up for coffee? Cause trust me, Ryan, I'm as thrilled to be sitting here with you as you are," she crosses her legs and stares him down with a challenge she knows he won't be able to resist. And she's right. 

Ryan sinks back into his seat, looking at Sarah with raised eyebrows, some of the coldness disappearing from his eyes. 

"Did something happen to him?" he now asks softly, letting his guard down a bit, his voice barely a whisper. He's not looking at her when he says it, instead he eyes the table again. 

At that moment, everything clicks and Sarah's heart shatters on the floor. 

She hoped against hope that maybe, just maybe, he won't be so in love with Brendon anymore. She hoped he's already moved on, that maybe he only needs his dog now, not her husband. 

But the look on his face is unmistakable, the wall in his eyes immediately gone. Concern and pain in them is the exact mirror image of the look Brendon has every time something Ryan related happens within a thousand-mile radius from him tells her all she needs to know. The feelings are still there and not even buried, they seem to be stronger than ever. 

She can't wrap her head around how much they love each other. Sure, she does love Brendon with all heart and soul, but not like this. 

They've been apart for more than a decade now and yet they both still have that same look in their eyes. Not talking to each other and only writing songs about one another with metaphors that are way too easy to read, avoiding questions about their relationship and yet tensing up with worry at the possibility of the other being unwell is something Sarah could never understand. Something on another level, something that people with an ordinary perception of love could never understand. 

Sarah was, however, absolutely sure about one thing. This type of love happened once in a century. The type of bond they share is something special. Otherworldly. Incomprehensive by everyone who wasn't them. 

Only if they were less stubborn and actually talked things over. 

"No, he's fine," she assures him. 

"What is it then? Just tell me already," says Ryan with a sigh. 

"The two of you, obviously. Or the lack of talking between you two," she says, watching Ryan's face twist with pain seconds before he becomes cold again. Indifferent and stubborn, quickly trying to rebuild the wall in his eyes in an attempt to prevent Sarah from reading him. 

And yet he's like an open book to Sarah. 

"Then why didn't he call me himself? Why sent you instead?" he crosses his arms over his chest, resembling a deeply hurt five-year-old child. There's rebellion in his eyes that doesn't quite hide the spark of interest which is also there. 

Sarah rolls her eyes. 

"Listen to yourself. Brendon would never ask me to do something like this and I would have refused if he did so. I'm here because I'm obviously more interested in fixing your relationship than the two of you combined." 

Ryan falls silent again while a pretty waitress with blonde hair in a ponytail and black-rimmed glasses comes up to them with a polite smile. 

"Can I get you something?" she asks Ryan and fiddles with a pen while he looks up at her, a bit confused like his mind was entirely on Brendon. Like he forgot where he was for a moment. 

"Uhm, no thank you," he smiles slightly. 

"He'll have coffee. Same as me," Sarah says before the waitress can make her exit. 

Ryan looks her up and down, eyebrow raised and sighs again. He's desperately trying to find something to say, to ask. He opens his mouth just to close it again several times.

"There is nothing to fix, no relationship," he says at last and she can't help it anymore, she laughs. Except there is no trace of amusement in her laughter. He looks at her questioningly. 

"Do you think I'm stupid, Ryan?" she asks, the question only half rhetorical. Ryan shakes his head, brown hair falling into his eyes. 

He makes no move to push them back, feeling way better when there's something separating him from Sarah. 

"Because I've heard the songs and I've been with Brendon long enough to know or thing or two about you. Not everything, but I know enough not to be fooled by your lie." 

Ryan sighs heavily as the waitress returns and puts a cup of coffee in front of him. He looks at the black liquid with a look that says he would rather drown in it than continue with this conversation. 

"So what?" he snaps suddenly like a wounded animal desperately trying to seem threatening. His last defense slowly crumbling down. 

"You expect to just walk in and call Brendon so we can hug and have the reunion fangirls have been waiting for? You can't fix a decade in two seconds, you know?" he asks bitterly, raising his voice just a little. 

A man sitting by the window looks up at them and shakes his head, but doesn't recognize them thankfully. 

"Don't be naive. He's not coming today. I just need you to meet him sometime soon. To talk, nothing else. You have to start somewhere, you know?" she mimics him. 

"No," he says, throwing his hands out in surrender, refusal written all over his features. "No way in hell am I doing that."

He shakes his head, amplifying his point even more, stubborn and childish as ever. 

And Sarah is so done with that. 

"Listen to me, Ryan. I'm done with your bullshit, yours and Brendon's. You fucking refuse to talk because you are too fucking proud for your own good and then I find my husband crying in the kitchen because..-"

"He did what?" asks Ryan suddenly, interrupting Sarah with a desperate voice, looking right at her for the first time he walked in. 

"Yeah," she nods softly, almost reaching out to touch his hand comfortingly. 

Almost. 

The coffee is getting cold, both of them are, but not Sarah nor Ryan make a move to drink any of it. 

"It was during your birthday. I found him crying in the kitchen," she shrugs, not looking at him but staring at that cold untouched liquid. 

Her companion doesn't say anything and after a few moments she looks up to find him staring at her with a mix of pain, worry, and love in his brown eyes. So much love. It makes her wonder how is any human being able to feel all that love without breaking. But it did break him in the end. 

It broke them both. 

"Does he, uh... Does he talk about me?" asks Ryan, his ears turning a slight shade of pink in embarrassment, his gaze shifting to look at his fingers hidden in the sleeves of his jacket. 

"Not much and once he does you won't get a lot out of him. Just a bunch of "miss him"s and sometimes tears." 

His face becomes completely readable with each word that leaves Sarah's lips, more convinced. There is a flame of something in his eyes, something between determination and uncertainness. He clears his throat and lowers his head between his shoulders, wrapping his shaking fingers- are they really- around his cup. 

"What if he hates me?" 

Sarah's heart breaks even more just then if it is even possible. She smiles softly at him, finally reaching out and touching his fingers gently. They are cold to touch and when she does it, he looks up at her with a raised eyebrow, taken aback slightly. 

"He thinks the same thing about you and I'm pretty sure he's not right about that," she offers a tiny warm smile and for the first time since they met, the corners of Ryan's mouth turn upwards. It makes him look younger somehow. Kinder.

Her own heart steps away at that moment, giving space to nothing but determination. Her own feelings are the last thing on her mind. 

"Really?" his voice sounds as if it were made of thin glass about to break. 

"Really," Sarah nods and takes her hand back, wanting to pick up her phone and call Brendon over. But no, she can't do that. They need privacy and a place from which Brendon can't escape easily. 

"Why are you doing this? Why do you want us reunited?" he asks doubtfully and looks her in the eyes. 

"Because I hate to see him like that, in that much pain. I can't fix it, but you can." 

He runs a hand through his hair, anxiously gripping his neck, thinking. She could almost see the wheels in his head spinning. 

After what feels like a thousand years, he finally looks at her. 

"So what's the plan?"


End file.
